


Why Is It Always This Way

by inevitablethief



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bickering, Cabin Fic, Dean Being Dean, Frottage, Inspired by Music, M/M, SPN Holiday Mixtape, Sharing a Bed, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inevitablethief/pseuds/inevitablethief
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, but Castiel and the Winchesters are still hunting Lucifer and the demons who are loyal to him.  After a suspected lead ends up in an ambush, Cas and Dean are stranded in the middle of nowhere without a car or grace.  A long, cold walk back to the motel turns dangerous when a blizzard comes in, and they are forced to find shelter.  Stuck in a cabin with only a single cot, they end up working through some of their issues only to find themselves resolving an entirely different type of tension.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the SPN Holiday Mixtape challenge. It's inspired by The Ramones' "Merry Christmas (I Don't Want to Fight Tonight)."

“We should have stayed with the truck,” Dean whined, his footsteps scraping against the snow-covered road. “I’m freezing my ass off out here. Merry Freaking Christmas Eve.”

“I told you to stay behind,” Cas barked, increasing the distance between them. “I can handle it.”

Dean jogged to catch up with him, and found the effort winded him more than he’d have liked. “Yeah, storming off into freezing weather is handling it,” he said, pulling his coat closer around him.

“What were we supposed to do, Dean? Your mother and Sam don’t know where we are, and neither of our cell phones work anymore to call them.”

“Courtesy of your light show— _show off_.”

Dean tried to keep his tone light, but Cas replied with overwhelming sincerity that made Dean’s fingers prickle. “It was either that or let you die.”

“I was handling it,” he groused. “And now you burned out your mojo when it could actually be of use to us.”

“I still wouldn’t be of any use,” Castiel replied. “I don’t have my wings.”

“Yeah, but you could probably turn up the temperature a bit, so I don’t freeze to death.”

“Dean,” Cas growled. He turned so fast towards Dean, that Dean stumbled on the snowy ground. Cas’s hands moved to cup Dean’s face, his thumbs pulling down on Dean’s lower eye to examine him. “I’m taking you back to the car.” He rotated them around so they were going the wrong way, back to the truck and the woods where they’d left it.

“Like hell you are.” Dean turned them around again, dragging Cas with him, so they were going the right way, back to civilization, however far away that was. “You think I’m going to let you walk off into the dark and cold all by yourself, you’re crazy.”

Dean moved ahead of Cas, leaving a trail in the snow behind him, but Cas made no move to turn them around again. They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds their heavy footsteps and the wind in the trees. In the darkness, Dean thought he could make out a turnoff on the other side of the road, and he half wanted to follow it and see if it led to a phone or, at least, a warm fire.

“You should have let me follow up on the lead myself.” Cas broke the silence, bringing Dean back into the moment. “It was not a successful endeavor.”

“Well, yeah, because Lucifer was expecting us.”

Castiel turned on him, fixing him with a bit of the angelic fury he’d displayed when he’d first rescued Dean from hell—a little _I can throw you back in_ —and it settled a heat deep in his gut that was almost enough to make him forget the cold. “Me,” he growled. “He was expecting me, and you nearly got killed because of it.”

“I nearly get killed on hunts every week. What’s the big deal?”

“I let Lucifer out. It’s my responsibility to clean up my own mess.”

Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “You act like you’re the only person it affected.”

Cas shook his grip as if was nothing, which, compared to his Angelic strength, was probably true. He usually humored Dean, though. “Yes, I know that my decision affected you and Sam as well. It is still my responsibility to make it right.”

“This is ridiculous,” Dean growled. Then under his breath, he mumbled, “ _Stubborn bastard_.”

Cas leveled him with one of his familiar imperious glares. “You are welcome to go back to the truck”

Dean had to rub his hands together to warm them up, then stuck them under his arms. He was not wearing enough layers for this type of weather. They scuffed along the road, seeing no cars or people anywhere. No one else was dumb enough to go out in this sort of weather, which was getting worse, as Dean felt dots of cold dust his nose and cheeks.

“Crap, it’s snowing.”

It wasn’t long before the few gentle flakes became flurries whipped around by the wind.

“Okay, we’re turning back,” Dean said, teeth chattering. 

“No, we need to find you shelter. We’re too far from the truck. We should keep going ahead.”

“At least we know where the truck is and that it’s warm—hey, no, wait—we passed a turnoff about a half-mile back. There’s probably someone there.”

“I can’t risk—” Cas cut off as he stumbled and collapsed.

“Shit, Cas!” Dean rushed to his side, helping him to his feet.

“I’m…cold,” Cas mumbled. “I forgot what that felt like.”

“What were you thinking? With your mojo gone you’re just as much at risk from the weather as I am!” He pulled Cas’s stupid, insufficient trenchcoat around him, buttoning up the front against the snow.

They moved more slowly in the falling snow than they had before, so it took close to an hour before they were back at the turnoff. Dean nearly missed it, but the snow let up just enough at the right moment for him to make out the short break in the trees. He led Cas across the street and headed down the dark, narrow path. It was obviously a hunting path, and Dean’s heart sank as he realized they wouldn’t find anyone there in this weather.

Worse, it was getting even colder, as the wind funneled through the narrow passageway between the trees. They’d have to go back; Cas was barely able to stay standing, and Dean was hardly better off.

“Hey, Buddy,” Dean whispered over the sound of the wind. “We’ve got to get back to the truck. Do you think you can make it?”

Cas wobbled in reply, leaning more heavily on Dean. His skin was so cold.

As if fate decided to intervene, Dean was finally able to spot a structure in the near distance. As he neared it, he realized it was one of those off-the-grid hunting cabins. He set Cas down on a stump outside the cabin and forced the door open with his shoulder. There was a cot, a wood stove, a table with a couple chairs, and a door leading to what Dean assumed was some variation on a bathroom. He retrieved Cas from where he was near unconscious on the stump, and they hobbled inside, Cas’s arm around his shoulder for support.

It was barely warmer inside the cabin than it had been outside, but at least it provided protection from the increasingly heavy snow. There was no wood for the stove, and whatever might have been piled outside was probably covered in a foot of snow. Dean just didn’t have the time to get any. A few more minutes outside and he was going to be as bad off as Cas. There was, however, a kerosene lantern on the table, which Dean lit with the nearby matches. 

“Cas, I’ll get you warmed up real quick, okay?”

Cas groaned a reply, but that was an improvement from a few minutes before, so Dean let it slide.

“Sorry about this, man,” Dean choked out. He pulled off Cas’s trenchcoat, then his suit jacket. Cas shivered in his shirtsleeves, and fixed Dean with a baleful stare. “I know, I know, but your clothes are wet from the snow.”

He took off Cas’s shoes and tossed them onto the floor. He could have sworn Cas wore sensible loafers or something, but he was wearing zippered work boots. The hems of his pants were soaked through, so they’d have to go, too.

“Uh,” he stammered. He’d be lying if he tried to pretend this wasn’t something he’d thought about, but this was definitely not sexy. Even as Cas helped him undo the button and zip down the fly, it was not sexy. Even though their hands brushed when the zipper caught on fabric, it was not sexy. Even as Dean pulled the pants over Cas’s hips, exposing the boxer briefs that hugged the outline of his dick, it was _definitely not_ sexy. Dean was nothing if not an expert in denial. 

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas said. His voice had regained some clarity, and his eyes were focusing properly.

“I gotcha,” Dean said, keeping his eyes on the Angel’s still clothed top half. He tucked him under the scratchy blanket.

The adrenaline of getting Cas to safety— _and undressing him_ , his feeble mind reminded—gone, Dean was starting to feel the effects of the cold again. He eyed the bed with envy, fighting with himself between what he wanted, what he needed, and what he was more afraid of than the worst the supernatural world had ever offered.

Practically won, and Dean removed his own wet clothes. Cas looked away as Dean stripped down to his T-shirt and his own pair of boxer briefs, though it didn’t make anything less awkward. First arranging all the clothes on the chairs around the table, Dean pulled the covers back and slid in next to Cas. It was tight quarters for two six-foot tall guys, but they needed the body warmth. They’d done this before in Rexford. Dean didn’t think this was going to be any easier than that long night had been. He’d only gotten himself a single motel room, since he hadn’t expected to find Cas homeless, but that bed had been a queen. Still, it had been absolute torture even with a respectable distance between them.

There was no chance for respectable distance in the cot they were currently sharing. Cas’s body was pressed up along Dean’s entire side, his leg hair scratchy against Dean’s calf and his thigh firm and strong. Cas had fallen asleep, and Dean didn’t know if that was a good idea or not, so he poked him.

“Hey, you gotta wake up, man.”

“No,” Cas whined. “I’m still cold.”

“Yeah, that’s why you can’t sleep.”

“Dean, I’m not human,” he said. He fixed Dean with a stare that was a shadow of his usual squinty eyed glare. “I need to rest to recharge my grace.”

“That’s not how it’s going to work. We’re both probably suffering from hypothermia, and either one of us could die before you get a chance to recharge.”

“I won’t let you die,” Cas said simply and pulled Dean towards him until Dean was settled against Cas’s sturdy chest.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean objected. He backed up away from Cas in the tiny cot, but he ran out of room quickly and fell onto the cold floor with an oof. 

“Dean.”

Dean stood up only to realize he was virtually naked from the waist down and grabbed the blanket from the cot. He had it wrapped halfway around himself when he noticed that this action had left Cas’s nearly naked lower half exposed instead, which was much worse.

In the dim light from the lantern, Cas’s tan skin glowed, so Dean could make out the tight muscles in his thighs and calves. The darkness of his underwear was fortunate because Dean couldn’t make out anything more interesting from the distance.

Sheepishly, Dean threw the blanket back on Cas and crawled back under it. He was already freezing from standing there for only a minute or two.

“This is all your fault,” Dean grumbled, probably in an attempt to compensate for their physical closeness.

“You shouldn’t have come with me,” Cas grumbled back, rolling over to find a more comfortable position. Sharing a bed with Cas was not especially fun. He was all sharp angles and hard muscles. If it hadn’t been borderline painful, it would have been unbelievably distracting. How did Cas manage to get the world’s fittest suburban dad as a vessel? Not that Dean thought about the body lying next to him as belonging to Jimmy Novak; it was Cas’s.

“Well, if I hadn’t you’d be dead,” Dean said instead of running a hand along any part of that body he could reach. 

“I could have handled all the demons myself—I did.” There was the ghost of a smirk on his stupid face.

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault the lead turned out to be a trap, but I meant walking into the snow like an idiot.”

“It wasn’t snowing when we left the truck.” Cas shivered, bringing his body into contact with Dean’s again. It was agony.

“I guess it’s going to be a white Christmas,” Dean joked, but the humor faded as he realized the significance. “Fuck! This was going to be my first Christmas with my mom.” She and Sam must have come back from picking up their Christmas Eve dinner to find the motel empty. She was probably freaking out about where they’d gone and why he hadn’t come back.

“We’ll walk back to civilization in the morning, Dean,” Cas reminded him grumpily. “You’ll get to celebrate the Feast of Mithras with your mother just like you wanted.”

“The Feast of what?”

“December twenty-fifth is the Feast of Mithras,” Cas replied matter-of-factly. “He was a very popular pagan god in Ancient Rome. Worshiping him fell out of favor in the fourth century. I believe a group of Italian hunters finally took Mithras out in the 1920’s, but he’d long before lost most of his powers.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sam gave me the whole Jesus wasn’t born on Christmas spiel years ago. Didn’t care then, don’t care now. Some things are better when you don’t peer behind the curtain.”

“Well, being that I’m also God’s son, I don’t see the big deal. I, too, have died for humanity’s sake.”

Dean let out a bark of laughter that seemed to echo through the cold air. “Dude, there’s a whole geographical area of America who would string you up for that kind of talk.”

“It’s not blasphemy when it’s true,” Cas smirked.

Dean could only shake his head. “You can be a smug bastard sometimes.”

The wind was still howling outside the tiny cabin, but Dean wouldn’t let himself huddle closer. He was worn out from walking; sleep was threatening to overtake him. Hypothermia was still a risk, especially since the temperature inside was barely warmer than it had been outside in the snow.

“Fuck, it’s so goddamn cold,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“At least we found shelter, Dean. When I was homeless, I had nowhere to keep warm except under the overpass.”

“Okay, we’re going there?”

“I have no other experience with the cold—with hunger and pain,” Castiel explained simply. “The other homeless men and women helped me greatly, giving me food, teaching me how to sleep. I owe them much.”

Dean rolled over so he couldn’t see Cas’s face. Guilt and anger seized his insides, burning hot against the cold air of the cabin.

“You know I had no choice but to kick you out,” Dean muttered.

“I don’t blame you, Dean.” A soft hand on Dean’s shoulder gently rolled him back to face Cas.

“It sounds like you’re blaming me,” he glared.

“I understand it’s more complicated than that. We have all done things that we regret in hindsight.”

“Like when you ate Purgatory?” Dean countered. “Bet you regret that.”

“No. I still see no alternative to stopping Raphael, even now. My only regret was working with _Crowley_.”

Dean took the bait. “You mean like I did when I was a demon?”

“Yes. You let him manipulate you for months, even before you disappeared.”

“Well, where were you?” Dean sat up, exposing his bare arms to the cold air. Blood was pumping through him, so he barely noticed the temperature.

“Trying to stop Metatron. Trying to track down the other Angels and fix the mistake that made me human in the first place!”

“Because you were stupid enough to trust him, even when I told you to investigate more before jumping in like you always do.”

“I’m the one who jumps in without thinking!?” Cas yelled. They were both sitting up now, oblivious to the cold air. “You tried to fight off ten demons tonight! They were going to kill you.”

“I wouldn’t have had to take on all of them if you had been where you were supposed to be,” Dean replied angrily, getting in Cas’s face.

“You wouldn’t have had to take on all of them if you hadn’t tagged along.”

“I’m just supposed to let you run off by yourself? What am I supposed to do if you get yourself killed?”

Cas opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again in resignation. Dean suddenly realized how near their faces were to each other, and the tenor of the freezing cabin changed completely.

“Cas, I…I don’t want to fight tonight,” he admitted. Their faces moved improbably closer until they were a breath apart. Dean could just make out Cas’s confused squint from the closer angle, but it didn’t deter him. He’d waited years for this, and he closed the rest of the distance.

Cas’s lips were still cold but softer than Dean had ever imagined. Dean was so distracted by the sensation that it took him a full minute to realize that Cas was kissing him back. Cas brought a cold hand up to cup Dean’s face, and tilted his head to slot their mouths together properly. Warmth spread through Dean’s body; either Cas had recovered some of his grace or he was just that good of a kisser.

There was a brief moment when Dean thought maybe the cold had finally gotten to him, and he was hallucinating. Cas’s hand was curled around the back of Dean’s neck possessively, as his mouth worked against Dean’s. He didn’t hold back, either, his eager tongue darting into Dean’s mouth, licking along Dean’s teeth and the roof of his mouth and stroking against his tongue. It was so good that Dean had to pull away because it was all so overwhelming.

“Fuck,” he muttered. Cas pouted petulantly and moved forward to kiss Dean again. Dean dodged out of the way, still hoping to catch his breath, but Cas made do by kissing along Dean’s jaw until he reached Dean’s ear, which he took into his mouth. It was surreal, making out with his Angel best friend in the middle of a blizzard after they broke into someone’s hunting cabin. But then Cas shifted and Dean could feel the hardness of his erection brush against his thigh, and he forgot his train of thought. Cas began to rock against his thigh in minute motions, not enough to get any satisfaction, but enough to indicate his desires. 

Dean pulled away before he did something they couldn’t come back from.

“Am I doing this wrong? Is this not what you wanted?” Cas asked, his eyes wide in the semi-darkness. “You kissed me first.”

“Yeah, I did,” Dean breathed. “I don’t know what I was thinking, man. I mean, you’re you, and I’m me.” He gestured at the minute space between them.

“Yes,” Cas smiled softly. “We’ve been through much together.” He kissed Dean softly on the cheek, and Dean could feel a blush blooming in its wake.

“Cas.”

“This is good.” Cas kissed his cheek again, moving closer to his lips. “This is right.” He kissed the side of Dean’s mouth. “I want this.” He placed a kiss on Dean’s mouth; Dean found himself chasing his lips after the brief contact. “I think you want this, too.”

Cas’s hand grazed along Dean’s cock, over his underwear, where he was as hard as Cas was.

“The last thing I ever imagined happening was you seducing me,” Dean laughed shakily. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to wake up in the Bunker, sweating, and this will have been a really detailed dream.”

“Do you dream about this a lot?” Cas smirked.

“When did you turn into Casanova, huh?” Dean replied with a smirk of his own.

Cas frowned. “I have had sex before, Dean.”

“Shut up,” Dean growled. He grabbed Cas by the collar and pulled him close. Cas took the hint and captured his mouth with all the eagerness he had before. It was probably a bad idea, but Dean needed to feel skin, so he moved his hands down to Cas’s buttons. He popped one open, then another, until he had enough exposed skin to latch his mouth onto Cas’s collarbone. He received a deep moan for his trouble. Dean’s mouth out of reach, Cas made do by running his hands through Dean’s hair, down his neck and back, and pulling at Dean’s T-shirt. His nails scratched at Dean’s skin urgently. Dean pulled away to let Cas tug the T-shirt over his head, and leaned back onto the cot, Cas following.

Dean took a moment to appreciate the weight of Cas on top of him, the press of their bare torsos against each other, until Cas rearranged himself so their cocks lined up, sending sparks through Dean’s body. He reached between them and pulled down his own underwear, and then Cas’s. It was too dark under the covers to see Cas’s cock, but Dean hoped he might have another chance to see it. Cas began thrusting against him immediately, bracing himself with his hands flat on the cot. The heads of their cocks rubbed together with each thrust. Dean wasn’t going to last long.

They kept their mouths busy kissing, which was new for Dean. He just couldn’t get enough of Cas’s lips, his tongue, the taste of him. Even when Cas pulled away, it was to suck a mark into the flesh of Dean’s neck or to bite his earlobe again and whisper tender things that Dean had always wanted to hear. It was a gentle contrast to the wanton thrust of their bodies, and made something warm bloom in Dean’s chest. That warmth moved lower, and Dean was coming without a hand on him. Cas kissed him through it, but he hadn’t come yet.

Dean reached between them, smearing his hand in the cum on his stomach and—finally—taking Cas in hand. Three strokes and Cas was coming, too; he sprayed Dean’s hand and stomach with his release. It was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

Cas slumped against him while they caught their breath. Dean didn’t really want him to move; the warmth and weight of his body was comforting. Finally, he rolled off and settled next to Dean, tucking Dean’s head against his chest. Dean wrapped his free arm around Cas and nuzzled closer.

“Cas, just don’t break my heart, okay,” Dean said. He felt vulnerable, like his deepest emotions and desires had been laid bare. Maybe they had been.

Cas squinted in confusion, and it was so endearing, Dean kissed him softly. “I would die before I hurt you.”

“Good,” Dean breathed. “But that means don’t go chasing after Lucifer for weeks—don’t get possessed by him either, okay? Don’t wander off to fix heaven or storm off to fight demons or into a blizzard. I know you’re a hero and everything, but the rest of the world doesn’t need you. Not like I do.”

Cas looked at him with that soft expression he got sometimes. It made Dean feel even more vulnerable because he finally knew what it meant. He pulled the blanket up around them, and they both drifted off.

“Holy shit!” 

Dean shot up at the sound, dislodging Cas as he did so. Cas swore and pulled the blanket off the cot to cover himself, leaving Dean exposed to both the cold air and his brother’s gaze.

“Oh, my God,” said another voice, softer and more feminine.

“Sammy, Mom,” Dean said, grabbing a corner of the blanket and covering himself. “This isn’t…this isn’t what it looks like.” He gestured between him and Cas. “We were just keeping warm.”

“I burnt out my grace,” Cas added. “We were cold.”

“Uh huh,” Sam said. His back was turned, so he couldn’t see them, and Dean’s mom had her eyes covered.

“We’ll get dressed,” Dean said.

They both turned their backs, so Dean and Cas could get dressed.

“You told me they weren’t sleeping together,” Dean heard his mom whisper to Sam.

“Maybe they really were just cold,” Sam whispered back.

Dean heard a loud _thwack_ as his mom hit Sam on the arm.

“How are you feeling, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Very warm,” Cas smirked, then gave Dean a quick kiss on the lips. “I believe my grace is restored to full power.”

Dean chased his mouth and gave him another kiss. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”


End file.
